Bentwhistle the Dragon Box

by Paul Cude

  Having mooched along the seafront, taking in the beach, the arcades and everything that was going on, she wandered slowly up the main street browsing in the windows of some of the shops. Again, checking her watch, she decided to put Tim out of his misery, so she strolled swiftly into Swanage railway station, the home of the famed steam railway. During the brief walk of only a few hundred yards, she thought about the lies she'd woven for Peter, Tank and Flash. Feeling a little guilty, she reached out instinctively to brush her hand against the alea that Peter had given her. At the end of the day, she thought, they just simply wouldn't understand. Well... Peter might, since he was heading on the same rollercoaster journey of his own with Janice, but just didn't realise it yet and was only just boarding the ride, so to speak. The other two, well... it was her life, and she should be allowed to live it as she saw fit. And no dragon or human was going to dictate how that would be, now or at any time in the future.

  Entering the far end of the terminus, she glanced down the length of the platform. There, towards the end stood Tim, confident, aware and just a little in awe, Richie could tell. Strolling right up to him, she kissed him passionately, full on the lips, much to the surprise of the other passengers on the platform. Tim was neither surprised nor intimidated by this... something that Richie really, really liked about him. Producing two tickets from his back trouser pocket, he grabbed hold of her left hand and led her towards the waiting Wessex Belle service that would allow them to take the train and dine in style all at the same time. Ironic really, that they'd both driven all this way for a train trip, but what a train trip it was... one of the most scenic, beautiful and enjoyable ways to spend an evening, the two of them had decided earlier on in the week. They weren't disappointed. The food was magnificent and fit for a king, another irony considering what the king would do if he had any idea where Richie was, or just who she was with. Tim, had the carrot soup with coriander oil for a starter, followed by roasted, stuffed butternut squash for a main course, with the fruit salad for pudding. Richie, being a dragon (you can count the number of vegetarian dragons on the whole of the planet on one hand) went all out. To start with she had the duck and orange pâté, followed by lamb shank for a main course, which was simply superb. All this was followed by her manically devouring the chocolate challenge which was simply pleasure personified. The two, very different (in more ways than one) love birds had just the best time and, more importantly for Richie, not a single prying eye, dragon or otherwise, spotted them on their illicit evening out.

  20 The Sorcerer's App... Friend

  Thick, dark charcoal dissolved into the swirling, steamy water. A worn metal spoon that had seen better days pushed the drink around the mug at speed, creating a raging whirlpool at its centre. With the hot charcoal made, Tank tossed the dirty spoon into the sink where it rattled against half a dozen others just like it, grabbed both mugs and headed towards the very back of the workshop, where Gee Tee had ensconced himself all morning... up to goodness knows what. Tank knew better than to disrupt the master mantra maker without good reason when things were like this. But it was now nearly lunch time and he figured a good time for them both to have a break, hence the steaming hot offering he held in his hands. Weaving in and out of the huge bookcases, he slipped through the gap in the front desk and stealthily made his way into the workshop. After five minutes of standing very still, smouldering with impatience, the old shopkeeper closed the book he'd been immersed in.

  Placing the mug on the desk, Tank slid into the nearest oversized chair, as his employer took a giant slurp of his drink. Knowing better than to jump in, Tank waited, his patience bristling, for the old dragon to open the conversation.

  "I think I may have something."

  Puzzled, Tank racked his brains, trying to work out just what the master mantra maker was referring to. Gee Tee squinted, studying Tank from just out of reach. He continued where he left off.

  "Your friend... Flash!"

  "What about him?" asked Tank, bewildered.

  "His condition... I think I understand a little more about it."

  Putting down his mug, Tank scooted his chair across the grubby floor, ending up right next to the old dragon.

  "You have a cure?"

  "No... listen! I didn't say I had a cure, or even that he can be cured, what I said was that I know a little more about his affliction."

  Tank nodded.

  "So?"

  "The naga poison used on Flash is a combination of toxins... one part venomous sea snake, one part lion fish, which used in conjunction with the magical power of the mantra I used to save his life, locked his DNA into place. I think that now I know the type of poison used, it may be possible to follow the trail back and work out which of his building blocks was affected first. If we can do that and find out where the reaction started, it just may be possible to undo it. And I must stress the 'MAY' part of what I've just said."

  "Can I tell him?"

  "I don't really know how to answer that app... Tank. Only you can decide. I don't know if we can find a cure or even, if we can, how long it might take. Years or even decades might be a real possibility."

  Tank's forehead creased as he thought about his friend's situation. Would it be wrong to get Flash's hopes up? How would he feel in those circumstances? Would he want to be told, or would he rather be blissfully unaware of what others were doing for him?

  Gee Tee started rummaging around in one of the few remaining filing cabinets, looking for what, only he knew. When his giant head popped up, Tank cleared his throat and promptly announced,

  "I can't really decide what to do. I need to give it some more consideration."

  Not knowing what to expect from the old shopkeeper, he watched as the master mantra maker pushed his glasses right to the top of his nose and turned to face his friend. This was a realisation that struck the old dragon like a wrecking ball demolishing a building. He now thought of Tank as his friend rather than his employee or apprentice. This was most certainly something he was going to have to give more consideration to.

  "I'm glad to hear that Tank! I think it's the right thing to do. Perhaps in time the solution, or at least another option, might present itself."

  Tank nodded.

  "Thanks for all the efforts on Flash's behalf... I know he'd appreciate what you're doing, just as I do."

  Shuffling over to Tank, his long spindly tail dragging across the floor behind him, Gee Tee very gently, and very surprisingly, wrapped his wing around the young rugby playing dragon's massive shoulders (something that had never happened before).

  "We need to work together, and we need to work hard. All my experience is screaming at me that we're reaching a crossroads. Not just us, or your friends, but the dragon race as a whole. Every molecule of my dragon blood is shrieking out at me... that the time is fast approaching. You and I, your friends as well, will all have a part to play I'm sure but... we must be ready!"

  Gazing up along the shopkeeper's jaw, past his square glasses and into his steely, determined eyes, Tank asked,

  "What is it we have to be ready for? And how exactly do we get ready?"

  "We must be prepared as much as we can. Trying to rid your friend of his condition would be a good start. Apart from that... well I think we need to research the nagas as much as possible to see if we can find some way to negate the masking field they use to blend in with the humans... their equivalent of the mantras we use. This must become a priority... don't ask me why, but this might well be the key. Also, we need to find a way to disperse whatever we come up with... globally."

  Tank thought hard about everything he'd just heard.

  "What can I do to help?"

  "Brush up on the nagas... anything you can find, anything you can think of, to find out more. You could ask Flash if he can get you access to the king's private library."

  "I'll ask him when I speak to him next. In the meantime I think I know where to start," and with that Tank wandered off out of the workshop and headed into
the deepest, darkest recesses of the Mantra Emporium, slurping on his mug of by now lukewarm charcoal.

  * * *

  Sweat poured down his back and legs as he trudged off the pitch. It had been one of the toughest sessions he'd ever been to. Forty minutes of full-on fitness work followed by twenty minutes of basic skills, in groups of different activities, topped off by a high intensity game. Very much looking forward to a cold drink in the bar, stuffing his stick bag in the car, he grabbed his wallet, watch and phone and headed into the clubhouse. As he jogged across the final part of the car park, his legs started to suffer from that wobbly feeling they only got at certain times. At first he thought it was from the training and maybe part of it was, but as he walked through the double glass doors it became blatantly obvious to him that the feeling was much more than that. Opening the internal door to the bar and stepping through, his fingers tingled, his stomach turned into a butterfly farm and he felt so giddy he thought he might actually faint.

  She was there waiting for him on the other side of the deserted bar. Not only that, but a steaming cold pint of diet Pepsi sat on top of the surface in front of her, just waiting to be drunk. Wandering up to the bar, red faced and sweaty from his workout, he surprised even himself as he leant across and gave her a full-on kiss on the lips. The smile on her face was sunlight streaming through the clouds on a rainy day. Sliding the drink across in his direction, Janice whispered,

  "Have a drink, you look shattered."

  Not needing a second invitation, Peter guzzled nearly half the drink in one go, only just managing to avoid swallowing the two icebergs that bobbled about inside it.

  "Thanks," he sighed. "That hit exactly the right spot."

  "Good," she replied. "How are you?"

  "Great thanks, but a bit busy at work. Hockey training was fab, if not a little tiring..."

  Peter's mouth waffled on, pretty much without his brain, as he gazed across the shiny bar top into Janice's beautiful face. All he could think was how perfect she looked. Suddenly the gorgeous face he'd been lost in looked... expectant. It was then that he realised he'd stopped talking and was now just staring, his mouth agape.

  "Sorry," was all that he could stutter.

  "That's okay," assured Janice. "Do you fancy going out again?"

  "I'd really like that," he just about managed to reply, as the bar started filling up.

  "I'll catch up with you later," she said, giving him a seductive wink before turning to serve one of the other hockey players.

  Resting on the bar, pleased as punch, that warm fuzzy feeling washed over him, making him feel like he'd never felt before. Lost, contented... just happy.

  'I really must do some research on these... feelings,' he vowed. 'But who to ask?' Richie would be a little inappropriate given that she'd just finished her relationship with Tim. Tank, again, would be the wrong person to speak to... Flash? Gee Tee? Flash, given what he'd said to Richie, probably wasn't the right person either, but Gee Tee... There was a thought. Always insightful, the more Peter thought about it, the more he really wanted to hear the old shopkeeper's views on the subject; he would have to make sure Tank was nowhere to be seen though.

  A hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present.

  "Hi Pete. How's it going?"

  "Hi Andy. Uhhh... fine thanks."

  "Game on Saturday against Hamble. You okay to play?"

  "Sure," he replied.

  "Good... see you at 1.30pm. Sorry, gotta dash... date with a lacrosse player," and with that he turned and disappeared into the throng of people now crowding into the bar.

  As his captain disappeared, he spotted the familiar hulking frame of Tank heading his way... it was difficult not to.

  "Evening," pitched in Tank, a rosy red bruise the colour of an apple spilling across his chin.

  "How you doing, big fella?" he replied, attempting something different.

  Tank raised his eyebrows. Peter got the message.

  "Training any good?" asked Peter.

  "Not bad," Tank answered. "We're playing much more like a team now... just a shame we're so far into the season. Still, there are at least a few festivals on the horizon."

  And so the evening progressed, Tank talking passionately and knowledgeably about rugby with Peter occasionally chipping in with his opinion on hockey, life and the universe. Eventually the two friends were the last remaining customers in the bar. Peter feigned tiredness, leaving many awkward pauses in the conversation in the hope that Tank would take the hint and head home, leaving him to talk to Janice alone. Tank, however, had other ideas and remained seated, nursing the last few drops of his drink... almost determined to make life as difficult as possible for his friend.

  Having collected all the other empty glasses, Janice came sweeping around all the other tables and arrived at theirs. Without a second thought she did something that nearly made Tank's eyeballs pop out and roll across the sticky carpet. Plonking herself smack down in Peter's lap, nearly causing him to choke on the ice left in his drink, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him delicately on the cheek.

  "So, what are we going to do... tomorrow night?" she asked, hoping he would be free then.

  "Weeelllll..." he replied, studiously avoiding Tank's piercing gaze. Before he had a chance to reply, the beautiful young bar worker jumped in.

  "What about if you came round to mine and I cooked us a really nice meal? We could watch a film afterwards."

  As he nodded his agreement, Tank looked as though he might explode.

  "Well, that's settled then," announced Janice, leaping to her feet. "Half seven at mine... just bring yourself." And with that, she scooted off towards the bar, leaving the two friends all alone. To say there was an awkward silence was something of an understatement.

  Peter gazed at the table, the floor, his shoes... out of the window. In the end he gave in.

  "I know, I know. Please don't say it."

  As it turned out, Tank didn't have to say anything... his look alone said it all.

  Another awkward silence ensued, before the strapping rugby playing dragon stood, swallowed the remainder of his drink and put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

  "Just think about what you're doing, Pete. Remember what happened to Richie. No good can come of all this. I think you know that."

  With that, Tank bade his friend farewell and left the building. Peter threw back the last of his drink, got up and returned both empty glasses back to the bar. Janice popped up from behind it, gave him one last kiss and said she would see him tomorrow. With Tank's words ringing in his ears and the taste of Janice's kiss still on his lips, he made his way across the dark, deserted car park. Blissfully unaware of the drive home, it was only once he'd showered and was tucked up in bed that he realised exactly how he felt. Despite his friend's warnings, he was ecstatic and felt as though he were flying with the scorching sun beating down on his natural prehistoric frame, like he'd just scored the winning goal in an important hockey match, like the Warriors had just won the Global Cup. Exhausted from training, his eyes fluttered briefly, before sleep overwhelmed him.

  21 Great Minds Think... Aloud!

  Spitting rivers of molten lava meandered down the outside of the white, gold-flecked, marble pillars. Occasionally the lava would crackle and hiss, all the while throwing out tiny droplets onto passersby, or the intricately designed floor. Depicting one of the most significant moments not just in dragon history, but in the history of the world, the beautifully crafted solid rock floor was the bedrock of the most important council chamber on earth. Dragons depicted in all shades of green, blue, red and purple stood side by side with the Manticores, shimmering in their differing shades of white, complementing the Basilisks' dark, glistening scales, looking almost neutral about everything that was going on. Was that how things had really been, or had the dragon who'd crafted and designed the amazing floor applied some sort of artistic licence? Behind the Basilisks, the Heretics of Antar could just be seen. 'Seething' was
the only word to describe their expressions, which could just be made out beneath the colourful hoods that adorned their heads. However, all that was just background. What really caught the eye in the scene, especially from somewhere up above in the guarded cavern that formed the room, were the figures at the centre, looking majestic, dignified, regal and... just plain important! The Hydra Queen herself shone from the water dripping off her, holding a document in her hand. Although in the carving on the floor the document was blank, it was taken for granted that it was the prophecy agreement that she was holding. Beside her, looking very much like a warrior, muscles gleaming, barely clothed, cloak billowing behind him, staff in hand, Artorius the Seer stood, overseeing the single most important gathering of races the world had ever seen. Rumour had it that the carving had taken nearly thirty years to complete, and that blood from the different races featured had been used for the dye that coloured the carving, but it had been done so far in the past, nobody actually knew for certain. It was some floor, that was for sure!

  Even without the carving, the room would still have been one of the grandest on the planet. Large, silver, double doors guarded the entrance, delicately designed with images of a nursery ring long in the past, a clear reference to just how much dragons value and respect their young, and how they were as sacred then as they are now.

  Hanging across one continuous wall a mosaic, made from dragon scales of all things, depicted a scene familiar to all the council members. A human, neither male nor female, was standing, weapon... maybe a sword or a dagger... in hand, fighting off an unseen enemy, protecting and saving lots and lots of dragons. Mesmerising in detail, it was easy to get sucked in and stare at the work of art for many minutes at a time. Significantly, some of the black scales that had been used to create the effect of the unseen enemy were missing; only a handful, and you'd have to look very closely to notice, which it seemed nobody had.